Rednecks at the beach!

My Daughter-in-law, granddaughter, daughter, and youngest son.

You know, I'm really not much of an out doorsy kind of person. As a teenager, I grew up out in the sticks of the Mojave desert and spent most of my time out hiking, climbing the mountains, and bike riding, but somewhere along the way things changed. I think that in some ways it was the US Army that killed any desire I ever had for spending time outdoors, because after you are forced to live out in the woods for weeks at a time, freezing your butt off in the snow and rain with little to no sleep, suddenly spending time outside just doesn't sound like all that much fun anymore. Therefore it was with mixed feelings that I found myself headed for the beach in Rockport Texas for the weekend with my wife, children, daughter-in-law, and granddaughter. I have to admit though that I really enjoyed myself and I'm pretty sure the rest of my family had a great time too, at least judging by my daughters repeated comment "this is the most fun I've ever had!"
The bad news is that we all got the snot sun burned outta us, but I sorta figure that is a part of the beach experience.

My Youngest son

My daughter

 

My old bat . . .err . . I mean my lovely wife.  :)

 

When Monday rolled around I found myself in the Austin airport headed for Columbia SC. Between the awful heat, my sun burnt face, and just the simple fact that I was tired as hell, there was no way I was gonna fly pretty, and so it was as a tired old dude that I made my way through the airport. For this reason, I found it kind of surprising when both, the lady at the US Airways counter and one of the TSA inspectors, recognized and spoke to me.
"Let me guess - You're going to WA?" said the young lady behind the US Airways counter when I approached her.
"Close, but no cigar!" I replied with a laugh.
"I just thought that since you had flown there twice recently, you might be headed that way again."
"Wow, you must have one hell of a memory considering how many people that you must deal with every day!"
"Well, just sometimes!" she answered with a funny little laugh. When I got to thinking about it, I realized two things:
1 - I had made those trips as Kim and so like her counterparts at the Delta airlines counter, this young lady now apparently recognized me in both male and female modes.
2 - Her odd laugh probably added some unspoken words to her reply, something along the lines of "Yeah, my memory rocks when it comes to recognizing someone that flys cross dressed a lot!"

As I was handing her my ID, it struck me that she wasn't entirely wrong about where I was going either.
"You know it just occurred to me that you were partially right about my destination. This is a two part trip! Guess where I am going from Columbia on Wednesday?!"
"DC?" she asked with a grin.
"Baltimore Washington International as a matter of fact! Say, you ARE good!" I told her with a laugh.

A few minutes later while making my way through the TSA check point, there were two inspectors at the desk where they check your ID. The one that checked my ID was a young woman with really pretty eyes, and the other was a guy standing close behind her. I don't know for sure, but they gave me the impression that he was training her.
"Please state your full name for me?" the young lady asked.
"Matthew Huddle" I replied. I noticed that while she and I were talking, the man was looking at me, and he spoke as I looked directly at him.
"You fly a LOT don't you?!" he asked with a grin.
"I do indeed! What can I say, it pays the bills!”


When I was setting this trip up, it kept nagging me that there was something about Columbia SC that I should remember and eventually it came to me! I had a cousin that lived there! When I had last seen him, he would have been a very young child, and I was a teenager, so neither of us actually recalled meeting before. For all intents and purposes, all that we knew of each other was our respective Facebook accounts.

We are related through my fathers side of the family, and if you have been reading my blog for any time, you might know that my mother and father separated when I was very young, and so I knew virtually no one from my fathers side. Anyway, a few years ago I connected with one of my aunts on that side of the family and Richard is her son. It didn't take long looking through his Facebook to discover that he was openly gay, and happily married to another man. The more I read, the more I got the impression that he seemed to be a really nice person, and before I knew it I was sharing my story with him. Funny thing is, I'm still not sure WHY I told him, as it is not something that I typically rush to share with people that I don't know well. I'm pleased that I did though, because in the year or two since then, I've grown kind of fond of the man. It goes without saying that when I found out I was to be working in his home town, I sent him a message and invited him and his husband to dinner.

My Cousin Richard and I

I was delighted to find that Richard was exactly who his Facebook page had led me to believe he was - an honestly nice and friendly person. His husband either couldn't join us or decided not to. I suspect it might have been a little bit of both, because let's face it, it takes quite a bit of courage to hang out in public with a cross dresser, and despite my telling them that I wouldn't be coming that way, I'll bet he still worried about it.
Well, we spoke about just about everything you can imagine - our family history, his being gay and how his family had reacted, my being TG and how MY family had reacted, etc, etc.
Oddly enough I found myself often at a loss for the right words while speaking with him and I even found myself feeling a bit like I had dropped the ball somewhere. Here he had come out early in life to a conservative family, had dealt with the consequences, and was now proudly living his life in freedom and setting an example for all who met and knew him. On the other hand, here I am, still sneaking out of my own home so early that it is still dark outside, and living in abject terror that my company will find out and fire me. I honestly felt just a bit ashamed of myself.

I think that when I grow up, I wanna be just like my cousin Richard. .  .

Good Luck Charlie

So this started off as yet another blog that was almost completely lacking in anything interesting to talk about. That seems to happen more and more lately and I’m starting to wonder if it is because the world is getting used to seeing people like me out and about or if it is just that my own excitement level at the little things has just dropped over the last few years? Maybe things that I once thought were interesting and neat have now become old hat? Honestly, I don’t know and can’t think of any reason to spend a lot of time dwelling on the question. Anyway, it wound up getting a little more interesting on the last day – at least if you are a teenager . . .

Normally I get a bit of warning before heading out on a complex or long term service call, but not this time. One Friday afternoon I got a call from my manager telling me that he needed me in Albany New York the following Monday night. No worries, that’s what I get paid for though, so over the weekend I spent the time to set up flights and hotels and the like, and Monday morning my happy ass was on an airplane bound for the North Eastern United States.

The dress that I wore on the way to Albany was another thrift store treasure. It had been part of a two piece suit and had a price tag on each piece of about $10. I thought that the coat that went with it was a bit over the top, with a huge fake diamond clasp on the front of it, but for $10 I was willing to give it a whirl. When I went to pay for it though, the young lady behind the counter rang it up at over $20 and so I stopped her.

“Hey now! The price tag says $10 but you just rang it up for twice that. What’s the deal with that?” I asked her with a grin and a wink.

“Nope, it is $10 for each piece.” She replied.

“You’re kidding? It’s a two piece suit, and y’all are pricing each piece of it?” I asked her, trying to clarify it, because it just didn’t make sense to me.

“You got it!” She replied with a laugh.

“Well, I’ll tell ya what then! I think that the coat sucks anyway and I was just gonna throw it away. Since you priced them individually does that mean that I can just buy the dress and leave the coat?” I asked.

“You can!” she answered.

“Well cool then. You keep the coat and I’ll take the dress!”

And there ya have it – Kimberly has a pretty green dress . . .

I don’t imagine y’all want to hear all of my work related problems and activities, but let’s suffice it to say that my one and a half week trip ended up being a three week trip with my making multiple trips between Albany and Fishkill New York. I had originally intended to meet with Lisa Gayle Harris, but the way my job was yanking me back and forth between the two cities and customers, combined with late nights I had to spend helping customers by phone, it just didn’t pan out.

One night on the way back to my hotel I stopped and hit up a Marshalls department store in boy mode and found a pair of shoes that I really liked. Even better, they looked to be perfect for a dress that I had brought with me. The problem is that I have learned over the years that women’s shoe sizes, just like sizes on just about all women’s attire, are highly unreliable. Some shoes that fit me perfectly are size 9, some are 10, and some (ugghh) are size 11. Suffice it to say that I have learned not to buy shoes without trying them on first, and that of course presents a bit of a challenge when buying women’s shoes while dressed as a man. With my heart in my throat, I grabbed two pair of the same shoes – one in size 9.5 and one in size 10, and headed to the dressing room with both pairs. The young lady behind the counter had a bit of a puzzled look on her face as a 46 year old man placed two pair of women’s shoes in front of her.

“OK, I’m pretty bold for a cross dresser, but I’m not bold enough to sit out there in front of all of your other customers and try on heels. Do you mind if I take these into the dressing room and try them on?” I asked her with a sheepish grin.

“I don’t mind at all! Go right ahead!” she told me with a grin.

“Thanks!” I told her and happily headed on back with the boxes cradled in my arms.

Like a lot of us, I am cursed with one foot that that is smaller than the other, and so the ideal shoe sizes for me would usually be a 9.5 on my right, and a 10 on my left, and I found these shoes to be no exception. The size 10’s fit well enough, and so I put them back in their boxes and headed back out to the counter with them where I struck up another conversation with the lady manning the door there.

“So? Did you choose one?” she asked.

“Sure! I’ll take the size 10’s please!” and then I proceeded to tell her laughingly that the ideal pair for me would be one of each size. She laughed, because it turns out that she has the very same problem.

After she was done ringing up my shoes, I took out my phone and showed her one of my favorite ‘Kimberly’ photos.

“Just in case you were gonna have nightmares tonight about the ugly old crossdresser, this is what I look like.” I told her with a grin. She was gratifyingly surprised.

“No way?!” She said looking at it. “Do you do your own makeup?”

“I do! My wife refuses to travel with me just to do my makeup.” I told her with a wink, and then gave her my heartfelt thanks.

Yeah, when I got back to the hotel and took the shoes out, I discovered that she had very kindly given me one of each size! What a sweetheart!

That Thursday I was supposed to meet up with Lisa Gayle Harris from the vanity club, but instead wound up stuck in my room trying to help two customers by phone and email. As seems to be more and more common these days, they have older equipment and I am the only remaining field service engineer in the company with training and experience with it, and so the headache came to me. Then, in a perfect storm, I got a call from my manager telling me that tomorrow morning I had to head for Fishkill New York because a huge customer of ours there had the same type of equipment and they needed my help. So much for a free weekend to hang out in Albany! Instead of laying around all day and going out in the evenings over the weekend, I found myself driving to Fishkill where I spent the weekend helping one of my colleagues who was already there and struggling with the system.

Monday morning I drove back to Albany to take care of the customer that I had originally been staying the weekend to take care of. That Thursday night, the night before I was supposed to head home, my manager called me again to tell me that he really needed me to go back to Fishkill again, because my colleague was still struggling there and needed help. He offered to fly me home and then back the next week so that I could get some time with my family since I had already been gone two weeks, but I looked into it and found that it would cost well over a thousand dollars in flights, AND I would spend a huge part of my weekend stuck in airports and on airplanes, and so I just stayed another week and weekend in New York instead. At least I wound up with all day Friday free just to make the two hour drive, and so I chose to go ahead and road trip “pretty” to my next hotel.

 
 
The only thing of any interest that happened on the drive was the reaction that I got from a woman in the toll booth when I stopped to pay her.

“Honey, you look so cute!” she told me with a grin while handing me my change and my receipt.

“Well thank you! That’s kind of what I was aiming for, but I wasn’t convinced that I got it right!” I replied with a laugh. Don’t get me wrong, I’ll take a grin and a compliment any day, but this sort of comment is kind of a double edged sword. Yes, it’s a compliment, but it also makes it entirely clear that I am not passing as a woman.

Later that weekend I had an afternoon free, and since my colleague headed back to his own home in New Hampshire for the night, that left me free to get out and about for the afternoon. Fishkill is not exactly the height of social activity and so I decided to have a bit of a movie marathon. When I walked up to the counter to buy my tickets, I couldn’t help but notice that the young woman there was very pretty, and with long blond hair.

“Hi there!” I told her with a smile. “I’ll take a ticket for ‘Mirror Mirror’ please, and also one for the four PM showing of ‘John Carter’.”

“Sure!” she told me with a great smile, and then as she handed me my tickets. “That is a really pretty top!”

“Well thank you! I just got it and wasn’t really sure if it looked right on me or not.”

‘Mirror mirror’ was already in progress when I entered, and I was a little concerned when I found the theater was full of young children. I suppose I should have been expecting that, but since the lobby area of the theater had appeared to be almost empty, I had hoped there weren’t gonna be a lot of people. The children don’t bother me at all, don’t get me wrong, I just worry about the possibility of some over protective parent getting upset about the ‘dude in a dress’. The movie was delightful by the way, and the women’s costumes were absolutely to die for!

‘John Carter” was really more my speed though, and I really enjoyed that one. The woman that plays the lead female role in the movie is an absolute stunner, and given the costumes that they had her in, she was hands down one of the hottest women I’ve ever seen in a movie.

The rest of my time was dedicated entirely to my job, and quite honestly it was a rough few weeks. One night after we left the customers factory, my colleague and I both stopped for dinner and a beer at a little pub called “Handshakes”. It was really nothing to write home about, but we were too tired to look for anyplace else. About mid-way through our beers a drop dead gorgeous young woman came in and sat at the bar next to us along with her boyfriend. I hate to admit it, but I was almost obsessed with the woman, because she was pretty much everything that I wish I could be. She was in her early twenties, a flawless figure, a huge head of dark hair, and wearing a short little black dress with a wide belt. I had to actually devote effort to not sneaking peaks at the young woman. Things can get a little confusing for someone like me, because sometimes I am torn between the normal male thoughts (“Damn but she is hot!”) and those of envy (“Damn I wish I was her!”). Such is my strange life . . .

So at long last, three weeks later it is time to head for home! I wore my new dress and the shoes that I had just bought at Marshals, and headed out for the two hour drive to the Albany airport. Once again I had to pass through the toll booths, but this time I received an entirely different reaction as the man inside the booth literally just stared at me for a solid 5 or 10 seconds when I handed him my ticket. At long last, he snapped out of his stupor and spoke up.

“That will be $4.25.” he said, paused, and then continued. “Just because. . .

Huh? What the hell was that supposed to mean?! “Just because??!!”  Was he implying that it might have been less, but he as charging me $4.25 “just because” he didn’t like me?!  I dunno . . .

“ ‘Just because’ huh? Well then I guess I’ll pay $4.25 . . .  just because. . . ”

In order to save my company a buck, I had set up this flight with two connecting flights, so I had to fly from Albany to Philadelphia, and then from there on to Charlotte, and then at last on to Austin. As I boarded the flight from Philadelphia to Charlotte, the flight attendant took one look at me as I entered.

“That’s a really pretty summer dress!” she said with a friendly smile.

“Thank you so much.” I replied as I made my way to my seat, thinking that once again I clearly wasn’t passing. She surprised me though, because she went on to compliment almost every woman that came on board. At least she wasn’t singling out the cross dresser. 

As usual in first class, the flight attendant made the rounds asking everyone what they would like to drink, and I told her that I would like a screw driver.

“Every flight has to have a lush on it, and I’m gonna be it on this flight!” I added with a wink.

“A lush? Now there is an interesting word.” She replied with a grin. Shortly she had provided everyone with a drink and then carried a basket of chips and snacks around and offered those to each of us. I grabbed a bag of chips and laughed.

“So this is lunch then?!” I asked.

“Sure it is!” then she paused. “So we are using all of the “L” words today? Lush and Lunch?”

“I suppose we are.” I answered her. I really have no idea what her fascination with “L” words was. Maybe she was just nervous and so sort of babbled? I dunno . . .

When the flight landed in Philly, I had a hard time trying to figure out where the heck I was supposed to go. Signs in one direction said “B1 to B8 this way” and in the other direction a sign said something along the lines of “B10 to B20 that way”. The problem of course was that I needed to find gate B9 and it didn’t appear to be anywhere near me. There were literally signs telling me how to find every gate except for the one that I needed. My confusion must have been obvious . . .

“Ma’am, you look confused. What gate are you looking for?” said a voice from behind me.

I turned to find an airport employee looking in my direction.

“Well, I see signs for every gate except B9!” I laughed.

“No problem! Go right around this corner and it’s on your right.”

“Thanks!”

When I got to the gate area, it struck me that one of my TG friends, Sophie, lived in Philly and it was a shame there was really no realistic way to see her while I was there. Still, I took the chance to make her laugh and sent her a text message something like: ‘I’m in the Philly airport. If you get here in the next 20 minutes we can wave at each other past the TSA inspectors!”  Needless to say, she declined.

As I was making myself comfortable in the gate area, I couldn’t help but notice two young ladies enter the area. They looked to be in their late teens, probably close to twenty years old. One of the girls had dark hair and was wearing nothing of interest. The girl with her though was a little blond thing, and wearing an absolutely adorable little sun dress. She looked kind of familiar, but I couldn’t place her. Let’s face it, I don’t know a single girl that age, and so I let it go. When it came time to board the plane, I was standing next to these two near the door while we waited for the boarding to start, and the cute blond dropped her water bottle three times. On the third time, I picked it up for her.

“I think your water bottle doesn’t want to go with you.” I joked with her.

“I know!” she replied with a laugh and then thanked me as she took the bottle back. It kept nagging at me that she looked familiar. . .

When they called for first class to board, I was surprised to see the two young ladies step forward, because let’s face it, very few ‘children’ that age are found in first class. It turned out that they sat directly across the aisle from me and I was mildly surprised when a woman on her way past stopped to talk to the blond girl.

“My daughter loves your show. Would you mind signing an autograph for me?”

NOW I knew where I had seen the girl before! She was Bridget Mendler who plays “Teddy” in “Good luck Charlie”!

Lots and lots of practice!

Saw this in Minneapolis and thought it was cute!

As y’all probably know if you have been reading my blogs, I’m not traveling pretty from home as often these days so that I can spend a little more time with my wife. Don’t know if she has noticed or not, but hey . . . So, I flew to Detroit the old fashioned and boring way – as a dud . . . err . . . I mean a dude.

Despite the fact that I got into Detroit late and was gonna have to get up early, I took my fat rear end down to the hotels gym and got in about a 45 minute workout. Ya see, I’ve been gaining weight lately and I’m more than a little unhappy about it, so it’s time to pull my head outta my butt and do something about it. I just have to remind myself of the gown that I bought for SCC and what a shame it would be if it didn’t fit, and that tends to motivate me a bit!


I put in a long day with my customer, working on four instruments in one day. A few of my larger customers have come to realize that if they wait until multiple instruments need work to call me out, they can save a lot of money in travel charges. The problem with this (from my perspective) is that it leaves me trying to carry enough spares to work on so many instruments, and then having to try and work faster than I like to get them done in a reasonable time. This time I was kind of under the gun for time because I had to fly directly from Detroit to my next service call in Minneapolis, and it would cost a fortune and inconvenience my customer if I had to reschedule the next service call.

When the following morning came around, and it was time for me to get ready to fly to Minneapolis, I was having a major confidence crisis. Looking back on it in hindsight, given my low confidence level, I probably shouldn’t have picked this day to take fashion risks, but there you have it. Quite a long time ago my daughter in law gave me some dark green eye shadow, and given that I was wearing a green skirt and green ear rings, I thought it would be neat to try it. The thing is, it was much darker than I had thought it was going to be, and through the day, I would swear that it turned blue! To make matters worse, as I was applying the dark eye shadow, little flecks of it scattered on to my cheek bones leaving them peppered with dark spots that would not simply brush off. I had to wipe the spots off along with my foundation, and then reapply my foundation. Right then and there I thought about getting a shower and just making the trip as a male, but I had this nagging feeling in the back of my mind that if I caved in to this lack of confidence, I might not ever get it back. I was afraid that it would just get worse and worse and I would return to the bad old days when I was terrified at the very thought of leaving my hotel room. It really was a close thing, but I did decide to suck it up and drive on. I also chose today to try out a new pair of shoes that were kind of strappy and with a four inch heel. I thought that they were cute, but I wasn’t entirely sure that they really complimented the outfit – I’ll leave that to you to decide.




The good news is, despite their looks, they were deceptively comfortable to wear.

As a male employee checked my rental car in at Avis in Detroit, a young female agent walked up and started to speak to me.
“Girl, you always have the neatest shoes!” she said with a huge smile and a laugh in her voice.
“Awe thank you! I’m a firm believer that life is way too short for ugly shoes!” I replied
“I hear that! You know, you’re gonna have to stick around here so that I can steal your shoes from you!”
“Over my dead and bleeding body!” I responded with a laugh “ But I might be convinced to let you borrow them from time to time.”
 As she was still laughing, the Avis bus driver made his way over to us.
“Which airline are you flying today Miss?” he asked in a very professional voice.
“I’m on US Airways this time.”
“Then this will be your bus. I’d be happy to take and load your bags aboard if that is all right with you?”
“I would appreciate it very much, thank you! Your name is Harmon right?” I asked him.
“That’s right. So you’ve ridden my bus before then?”
“I have! I have indeed!” I told him as he was getting my bags into the rack and as I took my seat. Once my bags were in place, he made his way past me to the drivers seat.
“Well then welcome back, and I hope that you have enjoyed your Avis experience!” he said with a smile.
“It was just great thank you. You know, I have actually written to Avis about you sir.” I confided in him as he went to take his seat. He actually stopped mid-way through the process of sitting down to turn and look at me.
“Good I hope?”, he asked with a smile.
“Absolutely! I told them that in more than ten years of traveling for a living, you were by far the most professional and pleasant Avis employee that I have ever met.”
“Well thank you!” he said with kind of a stunned tone of voice.
“You are most welcome, and thank you for taking care of my bags for me.”
(Note to self – write Avis again about him because the guy is just awesome!)

Checking in with US Airways, the lady that took care of me was perfectly cool about it, but the guy standing at the station next to hers looked like he was in shock and kept staring at me. I could see this out of the corner of my eye, but every time I turned to look at him he looked away. Tsk Tsk Tsk . . .

After getting through security, I was sitting at a bench putting my shoes back on when two female TSA agents were strolling by about five feet away from me.
“Pretty shoes!” One of them called out to me with a huge smile on her face. I just grinned and winked at her.
As the plane was making its way to the runway, I noticed that the level of conversation in the plane had just increased noticeably and so I glanced up from my book to see everyone looking out of the windows. Needless to say, I glanced out of my own to find a series of emergency vehicles making their way toward the runway as well. My first thought was “ah shit, someone is having a very bad day!”, but the more I thought about it, the more I figured that it must be some sort of training because I seriously doubted that airplanes would still be moving toward the runway if there was a serious problem out there. I suppose I was right, because we continued to taxi and then take off without issue.

 

When we arrived in the Philadelphia area where I was to catch my connecting flight, our airplane started to fly in a box-like circle around the airport, and after a few minutes the pilot came over the intercom to tell us that we had been put into a holding pattern due to “congested air space”. The good news is that we only circled for twenty minutes or so. The bad news is that my departing flight was delayed for almost three hours for the same reason, leaving me stuck in the airport for a good four hours. With so much time on my hands, I looked for a seat anywhere near a power outlet so that I could plug my laptop in and do some work, but much to my surprise I only found one, and it was in use. Still, I walked up to the woman that was using it and asked her if I might crowd her a little so that I could use the other plug of the outlet. “Sure! I know that I would hate to be without my PC, so pull up a seat!” she told me with a huge grin. I did just that, and then pulled out my laptop and its power transformer, and plugged it in. Much to my great regret, I did not hear the happy little “beep” sound that my laptop makes when it is plugged in, and so I checked all of my cables. All of them appeared to be well connected so I wiggled the plug at the wall to see if it was making a good connection or not. I never did hear a beep from it, and so I at last concluded that the second plug on this outlet must be bad. Disappointed, I reached behind our seats and pulled the cord out of the socket, and naturally, now that I had given up, I heard the beep of power applied, and then the “blurp” sound as the power was no longer available. She and I both started laughing at this, and I figured that this just proved there was power there and I was just getting a poor connection, and so I kept messing with it for a good five minutes or so. Once again though, I was forced to give up in disgust because I just could not get it to make a good connection no matter how I bent the prongs on my plug. I was rolling up my cables when the lady next to me spoke up.
“You know what? My phone is fully charged, why don’t you go ahead and take the plug?” she offered, and then reached out and unplugged her own transformer.
“Are you sure? I was just gonna do some work while I waited, and I don’t necessarily mind a good excuse to get me out of it!” I told her with a laugh.
“No problem! I’m all charged up and have to leave in a few minutes anyway, so it’s all yours!”
The reason I write about this mundane interaction is just because it was so casual. Here I was, clearly a cross dresser, and she didn’t care in the very least. She was perfectly happy to chat with me, sit next to me, and even go out of her way to be generous with me. Neat huh?

Several hours later it was about time to board the airplane, and so we were all standing near the door and waiting. I had been standing there for maybe five minutes when a man walked up to me. The first thing that I noticed were his eyes, because he had a sparkle in them that just kind of said “this is a nice guy that likes to laugh a lot”. As I was thinking this, he drew along side of me and leaned in to quietly speak to me.
“You’re hair is SO pretty!”
I was so surprised and kind of stunned by his unexpected comment, that I let out a laugh, and in a distinctly male voice blurted out “Well thank you!” He just grinned and continued walking by me as I sat there kicking myself for being startled into replying with such a male tone. It was all good though, because I was still grinning when I boarded the plane a few minutes later.

 The photos don’t do justice to the skirt that I was wearing as it is a very pretty light green, with flowers embroidered all over it, and a few little sparkles sewn into it. It’s really remarkably pretty, but it has a drawback that I later became aware of as I was making my way to baggage claim.
“Miss? Miss?” I heard a voice calling out. I turned to find that a woman pushing a baby carriage was calling to me, and so I stopped to wait for her.
“I thought that you would want to know that your skirt is caught.” I frantically tried to look over my left shoulder, wondering just how bad it was and how badly I had made a fool out of myself.
“No, on your other side.” She said, and then helpfully pointed to my right side. I was probably looking panicked, because she started to laugh.
 “Don’t worry, your underwear isn’t showing or anything like that, but it’s caught higher than I would like if it were me!” Feeling about two inches tall, I discovered that one of the sparkly do-dads on my skirt was caught on the embroidered stitching, resulting in the hem of the skirt being caught about half way up. It wasn’t so much a modesty problem, as that I hated the fact that I must have looked like an idiot, and no one had bothered to say anything through my entire walk to baggage claim until this kind woman had spoken up.
“Thank you SO much!” I blurted, feeling the blood rushing to my cheeks in embarrassment.
 “Your welcome!” She replied with a smile and then headed off. Uggghhhh . . . .

 So in the Minneapolis airport, once you get your baggage, you have to take a series of escalator’s and a tram to get to the rental cars. Yeah, you would think that I might have learned my lesson about taking my bags on escalators but I just hate waiting for elevators. Anyway, I was making my way from the tram to the escalator, pushing my tool box in front of me and pulling my suitcase behind me, when I had to slow down for an older gentleman who was in front of me and moving at a very slow pace. That’s not a problem though, because let’s face it, I’m at the end of a long day and I’m at my destination, so while I might prefer to walk faster, I really had no reason to be in a hurry. I slowed down so as not to rush the man and then pushed my tool box on, stepped on myself, and pulled my suitcase on behind me. I settled in for the ride to the top when the older gentleman slowly turned back to look at me.
“I don’t know how you can do this while wearing those heels” he says while shaking his head.
“Lots of practice sir.” I answered with a laugh.
“So I take it that you get lots of practice at it then?” he asked.
“Oh yeah, lots and lots of practice!”

Sometimes I sure wish that I was “normal” . . .

So I get up early as always to get out of the house before my kids wake up, and I was just gathering my things up to leave when my wife surprised me by coming down the stairs. I was kind of surprised at just how uncomfortable this made me. 

Years ago, when I first started going out into the big bad old world, she used to do my makeup for me, so it’s not like she has never seen me, but that was a long time ago, and to the best of my memory she hasn’t seen “Kim” in several years. The first thing she does when she hits the ground floor is to wave her hand in front of her nose.

“Too much perfume!” she said with a look of distaste on her face.

“Hey now! I used two spritz up into the air just like you taught me!” I laughed.

“Well maybe next time you should stick to one.” She said as she walked past me on the way to the coffee pot. That little interchange pretty much set the tone for the rest of my trip. . . .

So at 530AM, I am ready to head out, but since I know that my neighbor always goes to work at that time, I stood at the window waiting and watching his driveway.

“What are you waiting for?” my wife asked me.

“This is when Lee goes to work, so I’m waiting for him to leave.” I replied. She just kind of snickered her amusement at the situation. Ten minutes later I was still waiting though, and she spoke up again.

“You know, maybe he isn’t going to work today? If you are going to make your flight, you better just get on with it.”

“I guess you're right!” I told her, then gave her a hug and headed out to the truck with my bags. Of course the very second I got in my truck, my neighbor came out to leave, so I sat in the truck with the engine off and just waited until he headed out. I gave him a minute or two, then started my truck and headed off for the airport. That was when I realized that I had made another mistake – my route to the toll road is the same as his route to work, and I hadn’t thought about this until my truck was passing his truck. I drive an F150 – literally the most common vehicle on the road in Texas, so I doubt he would have realized that the “woman” driving by him was actually his neighbor, but I guess we’ll see when I get home!

As we were getting off of the plane in San Jose, I couldn’t help but notice that a guy sitting several seats ahead of me had a classic Mohawk, and the bare sides of his head was covered in blue/green tattoos shaped like scales. I tried to sneak a photo of him, but it just wasn’t feasible. 

Apparently seeing “Kim” again set my wife to thinking, because a few days into my trip she called and let me know how very unhappy she was about it all. She’s upset to see my things anywhere in the house or when she sees any of my clothes in the laundry, and she thinks that “Kim” is taking over our lives. By the end of the conversation I pretty much wanted to cry, because it seems that my choice is to either be miserable myself, or to make someone that I love miserable. On principles alone I will not go back into hiding myself or my things and I wont lie to her and tell her that I will stop when I know damned good and well that it is not something I can just give up. So I guess that I can try and give it all up, and pretty much hate my life, or I can keep making my wife of 24 years miserable.

Sometimes I sure wish that I was “normal” . . .

LOVE the bunny slippers

One of the first things that you learn when you move to central Texas is that allergy season here is pure hell. I’m not entirely sure why, I mean it’s not like the area is exactly covered in greenery and vegetation. Still, this time of the year it is not at all uncommon to walk out in the morning and find your car completely covered with a green coating of pollen and other allergens.  This was exactly the case when it came time to catch my flight to Detroit, and I was having a major allergy attack, with eyes bright red and swollen, tearing up, and my nose running like a faucet. Let’s just say that there was no way in hell that I was even gonna consider trying to fly there “pretty”. The trip home on the other hand . . . 

Given the unhappy results the last time that I took my bags up the escalator, I decided to use the elevators this time and try to avoid making a complete ass outta myself again. The first elevator was where the rental car bus drops you off, and then you walk across a bridge and take another elevator to get to the airline counters. When I entered the first elevator, a well-dressed man in a suit and tie followed me in. He took one look at me and started to grin.

“So, is this a weekend trip for you then?” he asked with a sparkle in his eyes.

“Not exactly!” I told him with a laugh.

After I crossed over the bridge and approached the next set of elevators, there were about five women standing there and discussing whether they should just take the escalator or wait for the elevator. I grinned, thinking of what had happened to me, and then entered the elevator when it arrived. In just a moment, the elevator was packed full as these women and their bags also entered.

“You made the right call in taking the elevator.” I told them all, and then proceeded to share the story of my little escalator mishap. As the elevator drew to a stop and the doors opened, all of the women were laughing as we exited.

It seems that Delta airlines is pretty much always a lot more expensive than US Airways, and so these days I am flying with US Airways a lot more than I used to. That kind of irritates me, because I really like Delta better – they have always been a lot friendlier, and unlike US Airways, Delta has never lost my luggage. In today’s economy though, I can’t possibly justify spending $600 more for flights just to use the airline that I prefer. I was pleasantly surprised as I checked in with the airline, because the woman behind the counter was genuinely friendly and helpful. Maybe it’s just the US Airways people in the Austin airport that are unfriendly? Tickets in hand, I made my way to a chair just outside of the TSA check point, where I stopped to take my laptop out of my bag and to remove my jewelry and stuff. While I was doing this, a young woman walked up to the chair next to me where she was also preparing for the security check point. I took one look at her shoes and busted out laughing, because she was wearing huge bunny slippers.

“LOVE your shoes!” I told her with a wink as she looked at me.

“Yeah, I didn’t get any sleep last night, so I figured I needed to be comfortable!” she told me with a frown.

“That’s cool! And here I thought that I was being brave!” I replied with a laugh.

Later on that afternoon I was sitting in the Charlotte airport waiting for my connecting flight when a tall woman came and sat down next to me. We sat there for a couple of hours because the plane was delayed, so she and I ended up chatting about this and that. Apparently we were both watching as an absolutely flawless woman was approaching the moving walkway wearing a tight and form fitting dress and four inch stiletto heels. She came to almost a complete stop at the entrance the walkway and then very carefully stepped onto it. I glanced at the woman next to me, who was about my own size and shape, and was gonna make a sarcastic comment about how it must be nice to be a perfect little size six, but she spoke first.

“I was just hoping that she was gonna bust her ass!” she told me with an evil grin.

I don’t know why we both thought this was hilarious, but we both laughed for quite a while about it . . .

A shining example of feminine grace and beauty (NOT)

So after you get your baggage at the Detroit airport, you have to go up a series of escalators to get to a bridge that takes you to the area where the rental car shuttle buses pick up and drop off. This is nothing new to me, because I’ve made this walk about a million times, or so it seems anyway, but this time things didn’t work out quite right.

Now you have to sort of get this picture into your head before you can really “see” the event I’m about to describe. I have a HUGE suitcase because let’s face it, I gotta carry enough clothes, shoes, makeup, and stuff for two people for a week. I also have to take a large rolling toolbox with me that carries all of my tools and spare components in it. Then, just to top it all off, I also have a backpack with my laptop, notebooks, kindle, GPS, and a good 25 pounds of assorted stuff in it. So, there I am, pushing my tool box in front of me and pulling my huge suitcase behind me as I head up the fairly narrow escalator. When I got the end of the escalator, I pushed the tool box forward and stepped off of the escalator just as I always have.

Well, that was the plan anyway, but it didn’t quite work out that way. . .

At the end of the escalator I pushed the tool box forward and it went absolutely nowhere – it simply stopped at the end, trapping me behind it on the still moving escalator. Realizing that the escalator was moving me, and the people behind me, toward the now blocked exit, I reached out my foot and shoved the box as hard as I could . . . and still the damn thing wouldn’t budge. Now things are really getting exciting, because the box is blocking the narrow exit of the escalator, the escalator is still happily moving me and everyone behind me toward the blockage, I’m off balance because I’ve got one foot desperately trying to shove the tool box forward, and I just ran out of room. You know, I would have paid good money to have someone filming or taking pictures when I was left with no choice but to leap over the toolbox, while wearing a dress and four inch stiletto sandals! Once on the other side of the tool box and now looking down the escalator at all of the people that are about to run into my little road block, I grabbed it with both hands and yanked it as hard as I could. At last, the tool box came free and went sliding about ten feet across the floor, along with the backpack that had been sitting on top of it. With the tool box now out of the way, my suitcase was free to tip over, and so I reached out and snatched it out of the way just as the next person behind me got to the top of the escalator. Horribly embarrassed, I made my way from bag to bag, picking them up and apologizing to the folks behind me that had come within seconds of also having to jump over my baggage. The man that was behind me helped me grab my things and even offered to take one of the bags up the next escalator for me. The woman that was right behind him just gave me this horrible “You are SUCH a loser” look that it made me want to wilt and die on the spot.

When I got to the rental car lot and stepped off of the bus, I was making my way to the board where they display your name and the space where your car is located, when an Avis employee walked up to me.

“Your car is in space G11 ma’am” he told me with a smile

“Thank you!” I replied, and then turned to find the space when it struck me. He hadn’t asked for my name or anything, and yet knew which car was mine. Now despite the show I had put on at the escalator earlier, I am not an idiot, and so it doesn’t surprise me that he recognized the cross dresser that has done so much business there, but the fact that he remembered the name that went with the cross dresser was pretty impressive. I was still thinking of this when I handed my contract and drivers license to the female guard at the gate.

“Well look at you!” she said as she compared the two documents. “Looking all pretty and everything!”

“Awe, thanks!” I replied. And then things got a little weird as she continued to gush

“You are REALLY pretty, and wearing your pretty little dress and everything. You make me think of Rupaul – he is so gorgeous!”

“He IS pretty, isn’t he? Yeah, but I’m nowhere near being in his league!”

“Have you seen his show before? Rupaul’s Drag Race?” she asked.

“You know, believe it or not, I’ve never seen it!”

“Well you should check it out!” she said, and then continued to just stare at me without handing me my things back. “You just look so cute with your perfect hair and pretty dress!”

“Thank you . . . “ I told her again, trying to give her a smile, but starting to get distinctly uncomfortable. 

I wonder if she realizes that she ran a serious risk of offending me? Nothing against RuPaul, but your average TG out and about and living their life, isn’t necessarily going to like being compared to a self-proclaimed drag queen, even if we are talking about a world famous and pretty one.  Still, I like to take into account what someone’s intent is, and she was trying to be nice.

Nuttin' Happened . . .

This was another one of those trips where it’s almost not worth writing the story up because nothing terribly interesting happened. I guess that’s a good thing, because it implies that I, and the people that I interact with, are so comfortable with the whole cross dressing thing that it’s nothing special. I suppose that I should be pleased!

Ahead of me in line at the airline counter was a young couple, apparently on their way to get married. He was asking about the cost to upgrade them to first class and then made the decision to go ahead and do it.

“Now I have to warn you, I can get you both into first class, but I don’t have any adjoining seats. Are you OK with that?” the customer service rep asked them.

“Sure, that will be OK” the young man told her, after glancing at his lady for confirmation.

“You can always ask the people next to you if they will move so that you can sit together. Very few people will tell you no. Oh, and I find that it helps a lot of you tell the person sitting next to you that you get violently ill with motion sickness. They just can’t wait to trade seats after you tell them that!”  That got a huge laugh from all of us within ear shot.

This time I was flying with US Airways, and much to my disappointment I discovered that I had gone from being “Gold Preferred” to “Silver Preferred”. What this means is that my odds of getting upgrades to first class on US Airways just plummeted AND I guess that they are supposed to charge me for my second bag.

“OK, so I see that you are silver preferred!” said the customer service rep with a smile as she checked me in.

“Silver? I thought I was Gold? Heck, I’ve even got this purty little card y’all sent me saying that I’m Gold” I replied while handing her the card.

“Yeah, they updated everyone’s status on March first, and it looks like you didn’t make Gold this time. Sorry. . .” she told me, managing to look honestly unhappy about it.

“Oh well, bummer! No worries though.”

“I guess I’m supposed to charge you for the second bag, but I think we’ll just overlook that – what do you think?” she said with a grin.

“I think that sounds awesome – thank you!”

So tickets in hand I headed over to a bench before the security check point to pull my laptop out of it’s bag and to take of my jewelry, and out of the corner of my eye I can see that someone is walking directly toward me. I glanced up and found a very pretty woman with gorgeous hair down to her waist looking straight at me, and so I stopped to wait for her.

“You know, I just had to tell you how much I love that coat!” she told me, pointing at my pretty blue coat.

“Awe, thank you! It is kind of pretty isn’t it? I think I got it at JC Pennys a while back.” I replied with a huge smile. Let’s face it, I love getting compliments from women – there is something most gratifying and affirming about it.